Jackie Days

My goodness, Thursday already! Where has the week gone?

On Monday I watched a documentary on tele about Jackie magazine. I used to have it delivered every week, along with hundreds of thousands of other teenaged girls. It was something I looked forward to as the highlight of my week. Life was different then!

The programme started with a modern teen, surrounded by all her modern teen paraphenalia: iPod, mobile phone, computer, television. Then they took all that away, and the teen was left on her bed, reading a book. Being a teenager was more boring then, said the narrator. Yes, but we didn't realise it, because we didn't know any different.

It was normal to be bored, perhaps it was even a good thing to be bored. We had to rely on ourselves to find entertainment, not have it thrown in our faces and coming from all angles like it is now.

I used to hide my Jackie magazine from my elder brother, who I'm sure when he found it would read it avidly. I didn't want him finding out about periods and other such embarrassing female afflictions. It was bad enough going through it without one's brother taking the piss out of me too.

I don't remember the craft section, but apparently the magazine showed us how to make accessories. I can't have taken much notice, and certainly not of the fried egg beret which must have been before my time. Anyway, I couldn't knit!

Donny Osmond and David Cassidy were the heart throbs of the time, except with me. I preferred Starsky & Hutch. David Cassidy's shoulders were much too narrow for my liking. He resembled a girl with his long hair, and Donny Osmond's teeth and goody goody demeanor killed him in my opinion. Girls adored them because they seemed safe. I just thought they were wimps.

When I wasn't engrossed in Jackie, which frankly didn't take long to read, I read books. I went through stacks, including my father's science fiction collection, enjoying the CS Lewis trilogy in particular.

The opportunities girls have now are extraordinary, but so are the stresses of having information overload. I'm glad I grew up when I did. Although I would have loved some of the creative possibilites at my fingertips that computers offer, I think, in general, it was easier to grow up at a moderate pace. We were protected, had boundaries, and knew where we were. It might have been boring, but at least we didn't have to cope with a continual bombardment on our image from the media.

I don't think we had an image, did we?